


Made of Steel

by sithwitch13



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Self-Sacrifice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:06:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sithwitch13/pseuds/sithwitch13
Summary: "I don't fear death." Nebula shakes her head, the static in her cybernetic eye worsening. "You should have run," she repeats."I don't want you to die." Mantis looks at her with those big black eyes, anguish plain on her face.Mantis and Nebula are captured. They'll make it out. They have to.
Relationships: Mantis/Nebula (Marvel)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	Made of Steel

**Author's Note:**

> CW: implied offscreen torture, chronic pain, disassembled cybernetics, some blood.
> 
> Apologies if I've missed some things, I wrote this on my phone during a fit of insomnia. There aren't nearly enough Mantis/Nebula fics out there, and even less hurt/comfort. I'm being the change I want to see in the world, I guess.
> 
> Also I'm making a [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4F9lJqYSHVpcIaR7dsLT2i) because I'm running away from my responsibilities.
> 
> Thanks to Lurkz, Dawn and Shawn, who caught the worst of the errors.

Nebula wakes with a jerk. Her head pounds and her cybernetic eye can only make out static with the occasional hint of an image, which does nothing to ease her pain and nausea.

But Nebula is long used to pain. She reaches up to remove her eye for maintenance and--nothing. Her flesh hand is manacled to the wall, the cybernetics in her forearm exposed. A ship, she judges by the slight hum of the engine.

Her fully mechanical arm is gone, the wiring and connections of her shoulder exposed. Taking stock of her situation, she realizes that nearly all of her cybernetics have been tampered with or removed, rendering her immobile and someone's idea of harmless.

She is never harmless. Someone will pay.

This is not the first time Nebula has been captured, though it has been some time. She had been younger then, and had lost a leg in punishment for being so stupid as to become a prisoner. She was a long way from the frightened, desperate girl she had been then. She does not panic. She surveys her surroundings, assessing the situation and gathering the information she'll need for her inevitable escape.

The room is not terribly large. She estimates that if she were able to lie flat on the floor, she would have been able to keep her feet on one wall and nearly touch the other with her arms stretched above her head, in both length and width. If she stood, she guesses she would be able to rap her knuckles on the ceiling. The door and walls are all solid, leaving her unable to discover more than the confines of the dimly-lit cell. She grits her teeth in irritation.

A noise makes her snap her head up; the opening of the cell door, and people entering. There are three: two unfamiliar and one unexpected. Nebula watches as Mantis is dragged in, appearing semiconscious at best. A shock collar, the type used in some prisons, is locked around her neck. Her black eyes seem unfocused and her antennae droop as she is likewise manacled to the wall, hands secured above her head on the wall opposite Nebula's own. She whimpers at the jostling, and Nebula finds herself growling in response. 

Their apparent captors are familiar species: a pale female that appears similar enough to Quill, and another of the same basic body plan but with bright pink skin. The pale one, a Xandarian wearing the leathers of a Ravager with an unfamiliar crew patch, turns toward her, one eyebrow cocked. "You're awake."

"You're dead," Nebula grits out.

The Xandarian's mouth twitches in an easy smile. "Yeah, I don't think so. First off, I think we've taken you apart pretty well. I'm sure we can do a little more rewiring if you get too feisty. And if that's not enough, well…" The Xandarian woman pats Mantis' cheek. Nebula bares her teeth at Mantis' whimper and flinch.

The Xandarian grins. "Yeah, that's what I thought. It's pretty simple. You behave, and the pretty little bug girl doesn't have to start competing with you for missing parts. Got it?"

Nebula glares silently. The Xandarian grabs one of Mantis' antennae and  _ yanks. _ Mantis screams, and Nebula tries to pull herself forward, to attack, to do  _ anything _ , but manages only to slump forward.

"Stop," she says, hating the weakness of acquiescing, but hating the Xandarian more. "I understand."

The Xandarian releases Mantis' antenna. "Glad we've come to an understanding, " she says. She nods at her companion, the pink one, a silent male Krylorian in similar ship's garb who seems content to lurk by the door. The Krylorian presses something on his wrist and the door opens.

So while the Xandarian is in charge, the Krylorian appears to be their jailer. Nebula files that away for later.

"Mantis." Nebula tries to move closer, but scarcely managed a few inches.

Mantis opens her eyes and meets Nebula's. She looks terrible, one side of her face swollen with a bruise and wet with tears. She manages a small, shaky smile. "You're awake," she says.

Nebula frowns. "What happened? How long have we been here? Where are the others?"

Mantis closes her eyes again. "I think it's been three days. I'm so sorry. It's my fault."

Nebula racks her memory. With her cybernetics compromised, it is less clear than she is used to. She has a vague memory of Mantis flitting from stall to stall, smiling brightly and holding out… dresses? "We were shopping,"Nebula says slowly.

Mantis sniffles. "I asked you to come. They saw me. I'm so sorry."

Another vague memory. The pain of electric shocks, her cybernetics seizing up. Mantis screaming. "They wanted to kill you. I begged them not to. They pulled you apart in front of me, they--" Mantis gives a full body sob. "I didn't want you to die."

"I've survived worse," Nebula says. She immediately regrets it. Mantis looks at her in that intent, pitying way she sometimes has. Nebula looks away. "I'll get us out of here. And then I'll kill them all."

Mantis says nothing. Nebula waits for a while and then chances another look. Mantis sits with her eyes closed and legs crossed. She does that sometimes. She'd explained it to Nebula once, that when the emotions are too much that she needs to retreat, to find a calm quiet space within herself.

She'd wanted Nebula to try it. After five minutes, Nebula had slammed her fist into the floor and left the room. There was no calm, quiet place inside of her.

They remain that way for hours: Mantis breathing deep and regularly, Nebula seething and her mind working. "Have they been feeding you?" Nebula finally asks.

Mantis opens her eyes. "Yes. They want me alive."

There it is again, that sad, guilty tone. "Why?"

"Because of what my species can do." Mantis looks down, misery plain on her face.

Comprehension finally dawns on Nebula. Mantis' empath abilities work both ways: she feels, and she projects feelings. She is a living lie detector, and can influence others. She would be invaluable to a certain type of person.

Nebula's mind flashes back to the open-air market, to the shock net and Mantis screaming. "You should have run."

"They would have killed you!"

"I don't fear death." Nebula shakes her head, the static in her cybernetic eye worsening. "You should have run," she repeats.

"I don't want you to die." Mantis looks at her with those big black eyes, anguish plain on her face. Nebula looks away again. "The others will know we're missing by now. They'll pick up our trail," Mantis insists. "It'll just be for a little while. I can do this for a little while."

"I'll get us out before then," Nebula promises. And again: "You should have run."

"I think people have left you behind far too much," Mantis says, and Nebula can't bear to look at her. Those big black eyes, the earnestness on her bruised face. "I won't if I can help it."

Nebula tries to stay awake, but pain exhausts her. She slumps against the wall, dozing, when the door slides open again. It's the Xandarian and the Krylorian again. The Xandarian is grinning.

"Up and at 'em," she says cheerfully, unlocking Mantis' manacles. Mantis groans. Her muscles must be cramped. The Xandarian is pitiless as she hauls her up. "You know what time it is."

"Stop," Nebula says. "Leave her alone. Whatever you want, I'll do it. I can interrogate, I can--"

The Xandarian is shaking her head in mock pity. "Oh, sweetheart," she says, and Nebula bristles. "Thanos' daughter? I can't trust you as far as I can throw you."

Nebula grits her teeth. Mantis gives her a small smile. "It's okay," she says softly. "It'll be okay." And then she's gone.

Nebula rages. She pulls at her single manacle until her wrist bleeds. She screams. Finally she stills, letting herself puzzle over the problem at hand. She has been immobilized and disassembled. This is first, and most important.

Second: the manacles. They would be very little trouble if she had use of her cybernetics. As it is, she looks up, examining them. The lock is electronic.

This leads her to the door. The lock there is also electronic. The solution is that the Krylonian must be neutralized and his controls taken. But this leads her back to the initial problem.

Mantis has also been neutralized. Her hands were kept above her head, so there would be no chance of accidental touching. Nebula reluctantly admits that it was a smart move on their captors' part; she would have done the same in their place.

Nebula can see the broad strokes of a plan: scavenge parts of her cybernetics, cobble together something that operates on the same frequency as the manacles and the door, and fight their way out. She could talk Mantis through it, maybe. If Mantis' hands were free.

She pounds her head against the wall in frustration. It does not help.

After an eternity, Mantis is returned. She is once again dragged, semiconscious, her head lolling. She is secured again, and they are left alone.

"Mantis," Nebula hisses. Then louder: "Mantis?"

She groans. Something in Nebula cracks.

"Mantis, I need to speak with you." Mantis' eyelids flutter. Nebula tries again, softer. "Did they hurt you?"

Mantis' voice is quiet, choked with effort. "I'm okay. Just tired," she says, trying to smile. Nebula knows what pain sounds like. Mantis is hurt.

"I need you to stay awake," Nebula says. "Just for a while. Can you talk to me?"

"Can I talk with you later?" Mantis leans her head back against the cell's wall.

_ No _ , Nebula thinks. She's watching Mantis closely now, scanning her for visible injuries, for signs of shock, of brain damage. Mantis' face is still bruised, but there's no blood. The skin of her wrists and neck are chafed. "Tell me about the market," she says.

This time, Mantis' smile is genuine. Her eyes are unfocused, but soft. "I was so glad you came with me."

"You should have had someone else. I'm not the bodyguard I should have been."

"I didn't want you to be my bodyguard. I wanted to buy you something pretty."

"Me?" Nebula frowns.  _ Pretty  _ is not a word she'd apply to anything about herself.

"You should have pretty things," Mantis murmurs. She's fading.

"I don't need pretty things," Nebula says. "I think that's more for you than me."

"Nobody  _ needs _ them." Mantis sounds irritated and opens her eyes to give Nebula a look, like this is a fact she should know. "But they make me happy. I wanted to make you happy. You're always so angry and sad."

Nebula scoffs. "I'm not sad."

"You are. I can tell. Even if I couldn't touch you, I could tell. But that's okay. I'm sad a lot, too."

"Why?" It's as much for her own curiosity as it is to keep Mantis talking. "Why are you sad?"

"I used to be so lonely." Mantis' voice is just above a whisper. Her eyes are closed again. "Now I have friends, but I remember being lonely. I am sad for who I used to be. I am sad for who we  _ all _ used to be."

Nebula wants to scoff, but that crack inside her widens. "You don't need to be sad for me," she says instead.

"I am sad for you the most. You have had so much pain."

"It's made me who I am."

Mantis shakes her head once, sadly. "You are more than your pain," she whispers. "You are beautiful."

That stuns Nebula into silence. She has never been called beautiful. Deadly, frightening, a disappointment… never beautiful.

The silence stretches too long. Mantis is unconscious, and Nebula watches her. She tells herself she is only making sure Mantis continues to breathe, but she allows herself to really  _ look.  _ There's always something so delicate about Mantis, something fragile. She's not, of course; she may not be a fighter but she's held her own against a living planet, against Thanos himself. Something about her makes Nebula want to protect her.

She's done a piss-poor job of it so far.

When the Xandarian comes again, Nebula tries to fight. "You can't keep doing this to her," she says, hissing the words so Mantis won't wake up. She pauses, clenched her teeth. "Please," she says. It hurts her to beg. "Please let me do whatever you need her for. Just leave her alone for today."

"Not gonna happen." The Krylorian unlocks Mantis' manacles. This time Mantis cries out and tries to bite it back as she's pulled to her feet. “But tell you what." The Xandarian taps one manicured fingernail on her chin, pretending to think. "You've gotta be hungry. Thirsty, too. If you behave, I'll leave her unlocked. She can even bring you leftovers and feed you. If she can move," she adds as an afterthought. She nods at the Krylorian, who unmanacles Nebula's hand. Her wrist is scabbed and her shoulder aches. It's of little consequence. 

"The door's gonna be open. Klauth's gonna be outside." She nods to the Krylorian--Klauth--who stares at Nebula steadily. "Try anything funny and we take it out on your girl." The Xandarian reaches out, pets Mantis' hair, and grabs a handful. Mantis gasps.

The hate Nebula feels is a hot, living thing. The Xandarian, seeing her expression, laughs. "Enjoy your day, Daughter of Thanos," she calls, grabbing Mantis by the shock collar and dragging her out of the cell.

It's a power play. Nebula has done this before, from the Xandarian's side of the cell door. Find the subject's weakness and press.

It feels miserable to be on this side of it.

But she marshals her self control, buries her pride, and leans back against the metal wall. She would cross her legs if they were mobile. As it is, she lets her remaining hand settle on the floor and closes her eyes. She breathes in and out, searching for that calm center, letting her mind drift.

It's so hard to find. All she can think of are the hollows under Mantis' eyes. The Ravagers know they're being tracked. They're weakening both herself and Mantis. They're burning out a resource before it can be taken from them, and Nebula has always been expendable.

Her own death has never frightened her. But Mantis' does.

_ Calm _ , she imagines Mantis whispering in her ear. Imagines her hand holding her own. Feels her fingers twitch at the thought. This is their last chance, and Nebula has to be calm. She must detach herself from emotion, sit back and look at things coldly and analytically.

Her three initial observations are still there, though now modified. She is immobile--but now her hand is freed. Mantis will be freed of her manacles, though possibly unable to act. Finding the frequency of the door would take time they may not have. But Nebula herself is a living weapon.

Her hand twitches again. She had starved onboard the  _ Benatar  _ for weeks with no hope of rescue. She is far stronger than her captors expect.

Slowly, her eyes still closed, she begins picking at the open metal of her right leg.

Mantis is unconscious when she is unceremoniously tossed to the floor of the cell some time later. She has a plastic bottle and something in a foil wrapper clutched in her hands so hard her knuckles are white. "Looks like you get dinner after all," the Xandarian says before the door slides shut.

Nebula throws herself forward, landing with a thump on her chest. She reaches our with her remaining hand, brushing their fingers together. "Mantis?"

At her touch, Mantis jerks awake, tears in her eyes. "So much pain," she moans.

"I'll kill them for you," Nebula promises.

Manris shakes her head. "Not me. You."

"We're not talking about me right now. Can you move?"

It takes a few tries, but Mantis pushes herself up. Nebula can see that the skin of her neck is burned underneath the shock collar. Mantis notices and looks away. "It's getting harder to focus."

"I need you to focus just a little more. Can you help me up?"

Mantis reaches down, grabs her under the armpit and braces her chest with a forearm. Nebula does not think about that. Instead, she whispers in Mantis' ear, her lips almost touching the soft skin. "Reach into my leg when you sit me up."

Mantis is still weeping, but she stiffens and gives the faintest nod, their cheeks brushing together. She manages to push Nebula back up against the wall. Her body is over Nebula's, blocking them from view.  _ Smart _ , Nebula thinks, as Mantis reaches inside of her. She feels the spark of contact, the sharp sense of loss as something is removed.

The small device Mantis pulled out sits on the floor between Nebula's legs, hidden by her thigh for the moment. When Mantis tips the bottle of water into Nebula's mouth she retrieves it, hiding it in her palm as she holds up what looks like a stale ration bar.

"When they come back, press it against her skin," Nebula whispers between sips. "I'll take it from there."

"You can't move," Mantis whispers back. "And I won't leave you."

"You won't have to. I just need your hands." Louder, for the surveillance she knows is there, she says, "Can you hold me tonight?" She makes herself sound sad and defeated. It's not too much of a stretch.

Mantis' eyes bore into hers. They've been dulled by exhaustion and pain the last few days, but Nebula thinks she sees a spark of something fierce returning. Mantis nods. "Of course. That's all I've wanted to do."

When Nebula has finished the water and ration bar, Mantis cuddles up to her, head in Nebula's lap. Her fingers brush across Nebula's legs, drawing soft patterns.

Nebula knows Mantis can feel everything right now, but she'll confront that later. For now she rests her hand on Mantis' head, stroking her hair as much as she can.

In the dim light, Mantis begins to work, clever fingers mimicking the movements of Nebula's.

The Xandarian and Klauth come about when Nebula has expected. The internal timer in her brain has been functional, and she's been paying attention. The Xandarian knocks as she enters, mimicking a friendly greeting. "Still alive?" she calls. She bends down over them, beaming. "Isn't this adorable?"

Klauth pulls Mantis up. She cries out, clutching her hands close to her chest, her familiar self-soothing gesture. The Xandarian reaches out, grabs Mantis' face roughly, examining her. "You're standing on your own today!" she says, delighted. "Feeling refreshed?" Turning her head toward Nebula, she says, "Lock her up again."

As Klauth turns to step toward Nebula, in the second before the Xandarian turns her attention back to Mantis, they act. Mantis strikes, faster than she's moved in days, pressing the scavenged battery to the Xandarian's neck. The makeshift taser causes her to seize, dropping Mantis to the floor.

As the electrical pulse crackles, Nebula whips one leg out. It catches Klauth by surprise, sweeping his feet out from under him and toppling him to the floor. Nebula has been divested of her wrist blades, but repurposed metal from its housing works just as well in a pinch, she finds. Klauth's pink face pales as the arterial spray hits Nebula and paints the wall behind her. She fumbles at Klauth's control device, pulling it off his wrist as he makes a last, fluttering attempt to bat her hand away.

Mantis is gasping on the ground. Nebula stands shakily, the servos of her body grinding loudly and painfully, and grasps Mantis' hand.

They lean against each other for just a moment, panting. Nebula tries to think about determination and strength, and the animal hope of freedom, imagines it transferring from her skin to Mantis'. "We're gonna make it," she says. She looks down at the Xandarian. "Do you want to do the honors?"

Mantis shakes her head violently. "I don't like feeling death," she says.

Nebula nods. It feels almost anticlimactic to slit the throat of a woman still twitching helplessly on the ground. But there's also the smallest bit of satisfaction knowing that, as she chokes on her own blood, there is no possibility of last words.

Mantis has distracted herself by fumbling with the control device. "I've been watching him use it," she murmurs, pointedly not looking at the two dead Ravagers. Finally the lock of her shock collar clicks. Mantis hurries to pull it off, smiling in relief.

"Hold onto me," Nebula says as the door opens. Mantis keeps to her left side, allowing Nebula to use her somewhat-functional right arm in case of a fight. There's pain where she's pressed to the exposed place where her mechanical arm should be, but that's okay. The pain keeps her focused 

The ship appears to be one of a type preferred by Ravager crews, something that balances speed and maneuverability with room for enough cargo to be profitable. Nebula's killed dozens of these crews before. She can find her way to one of the shuttles with her eyes closed.

"Just a little further," she murmurs to Mantis, who is starting to lose the rush of adrenaline. "You'll be home in no time."

She can hear voices echoing down the corridors, laughing and snippets of conversation from the rest of the crew. Screams at one point; probably some unlucky mark with a rich family. They've been using Mantis to torture those people. They've been torturing Mantis  _ with _ those people. Nebula finds she has little sympathy.

Mantis is barely conscious by the time they reach the ship's shuttle. She sags against a bulkhead and reaches up to touch Nebula's cheek as Nebula fumbles with Klauth's control device. "I wish you weren't so sad," Mantis slurs.

"I'm not sad, I'm pissed off." The stupid door isn't opening. She freezes as a light begins to blink and a piecing alarm sounds. They must have found the bodies. "Shit."

"I wish I could make you smile," Mantis continues as if nothing was happening. "I've never seen you smile."

The door still won't budge. The ship is in lockdown.

She's failed.

"There's not a lot of reasons to smile right now," Nebula says. "Mantis--"

"I'm happy you're here with me." Mantis leans in, cups Nebula's face. "I don't like being alone."

They're kissing before Nebula really registers it. There's a moment of shock, of realization, and then a sharp stab of grief. This was one more thing that would be taken from her. From  _ both _ of them. The universe was a colossally unfair place.

And then, there's warmth. Not a fire, but the heat of skin, the comfort of food just out of an oven, of drowsing with her eyes closed, face to the sun.

She's not sure if it's Mantis' emotions or hers. She doesn't care.

If a moment is all they have, she'll savor it and let it buoy her to whatever hell is waiting for her.

There's a sudden jerk, slamming them both into the bulkhead. Mantis yelps as she loses her footing and slips to the floor. The ship shudders. They are under attack. 

A wild moment of hope makes Nebula gasp. "It's them," she murmurs, bracing herself against another shudder. "Mantis, it's them."

Mantis' eyes are closed, her breathing shallow. When Nebula reaches for her, her skin is growing clammy, her pulse becoming erratic.

The universe has taken enough. Nebula is done letting people take things from her.

She screams, throwing all of her strength into a punch. The door dents beneath her fist. She aims at the bloody smear left by the split skin of her knuckles and screams again, hammering away. She nearly falls when the ship jerks again, and she smells the acrid stench of melting hull.

There is no more time. She throws everything she has left into the door, and it finally gives way just a crack. She pushes, feels things in her arm and legs pop as she makes an opening just wide enough to squeeze through.

It takes a few tries to grab Mantis and push her through. Her fine motor control is shot. She'll worry about it later. For now, she pulls herself through the gap and begins dragging them both to the shuttle.

She grips the control device in her teeth, easing Mantis to the deck and fumbling with it once more. She can smell smoke. The fight is not going well for the Ravagers.

They're going to make it. They have to. Nebula pulls Mantis up the ramp, feels slightly guilty about leaving her on the floor of the shuttle, and limps to the cockpit. She finds the comms and turns them to a wide public frequency. 

"This is Nebula," she says. Her voice sounds terrible. Her respiratory mods must have been damaged at some point. "Can anyone hear me?"

There's a few moments of silence while Nebula powers up the shuttle. Flying one-handed is going to be a bitch.

As she's clumsily maneuvering the shuttle out of the dock, the comm crackles. "This is Kraglin." She remembers him. The Xandarian Ravager who had tried to ingratiate himself with her when she’d taken over Yondu’s crew all those years ago. He's never been her favorite but she's still grateful to hear a friendly voice. "We're stopping fire. Gonna send a rescue team for you."

"Don't bother," she snaps. "We're in the shuttle."

Another pause. "The one flying like a drunk Kree hen?"

"Shut up and reel us in," she snaps, though without any real venom. It's over. She's won. She sags in her seat when she feels the sudden halting of the shuttle in a tractor beam.

She's just going to close her eyes for a moment. The static is so annoying.

Nebula wakes with a start. There's beeping somewhere nearby, and an unpleasantly familiar astringent scent. Sterilization fluid for surgical instruments. She's smelled it more than enough times to know.

Growling, she tries to pull herself up. "Please, no, you'll hurt yourself."

The voice is tired and worried, but it's Mantis. Nebula's vision is having trouble adjusting, but she can see a person-shaped fuzzy blob standing to her right. Someone is holding her hand.

"Something got messed up with your--um, brain implant? I'll let them know they need to tweak it," Mantis says. Of course. Mantis could feel her brief moment of panic and confusion. "We're safe. You rescued us."

"Well, you helped." She hears Mantis laugh, high and delighted.

"Are you smiling? Did I just see that?"

"Clearly you're imagining things," Nebula grumbles, but fondly. She feels it again, the warmth somewhere in her chest. "Is that you?"

"A little," Mantis confesses. She leans in. Nebula can feel her breath brushing lightly against her cheek. "It's a little you, too."

Nebula humphs, but she's still doing it: the corner of her lips won't stop tugging, and she knows she's smiling. "You're okay?"

She feels Mantis nod. "I'll be alright. Can I hold you?"

Nebula nods, not trusting herself to speak. She doesn't want to ruin this. There's nothing soft left in her. Better to stay silent. She can be silent.

"It's okay to be afraid," says Mantis, resting her head against Nebula's. "I'm scared all the time."

"I don't know how to be--this." Nebula is still holding Mantis' hand. She's squeezing too hard, and makes herself let go.

Mantis catches her hand, brings it up to her lips, and kisses the split knuckles. "That's okay. Neither do I. Just be here with me?"

Nebula finds herself relaxing. She feels safe. Like she could sleep soundly for the first time in her life. "Are you doing this?" she asks again, turning her head so their foreheads are touching.

"No," says Mantis. Nebula feels the brush of lips against hers. "But I'll be here when you wake up."


End file.
